


Unhinged

by st4rlabsforever (omaken)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Multi, Pre-Slash, Whump, implied ot3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:38:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6825394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omaken/pseuds/st4rlabsforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cisco is beaten to within an inch of his life, Barry has to face his own demons in his quest for revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unhinged

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Flashvibe Week 2016. Check me out on [tumblr](http://st4rlabsforever.tumblr.com)

****“See ya, Luis,” Cisco shouted as he gave a two-fingered salute to the bartender.

He’d been frequenting this dive since he’d starting working at STAR Labs. Sure, he lived for the science and the innovation that came with being a part of Team Flash, but there were some nights when he just needed a break. When he felt unstrung and restless and the enormity of all he had been faced with in the last two years came crashing down on him. The particle accelerator. The Singularity. Ronnie. Those glowing, blood-red eyes and a quivering hand through his heart. And alcohol took the edge off of his nerves in a way that tinkering with his gadgets never could.

He was pleasantly buzzed, a warm feeling coursing through his veins as he tried his best to walk the last few steps to the door in time with the pulsing music, but the cold blast of air hit him like an impulse, cutting through the haze and immediately sobering him up.

Crap, that was cold.

It would be a long walk home, but it would be plenty of time to clear his mind.

“Francisco Ramon?” a voice called from behind him when he was nearly at the mouth of the alleyway.

“Who’s asking?” Cisco pivoted to address the speaker when something solid smashed him in the face. Hard. The impact left him reeling, staggering backwards as he tried vainly to regain his balance.

Where he expected his ass to meet the ground was a soft, but firm presence instead. A pair of arms looped around his own in a vice-like grip. _Another human, then_ , was all his brain could process before another _whoosh_ through the frigid air signaled the next blow.

The disembodied arms released him and he was toppling sideways, unable to break his own fall. In the moment of respite, the stimuli -- his own body crying out in agony -- hit him as one. His left eye was swollen, the slow trickle of blood stinging as it spread red over his cornea. When he spit, the taste of iron was overwhelming and he felt one of his teeth slip out, the clamor as it hit the cement shockingly resonant in the dead of the night. Then there was the razor-sharp pain surging up his right side. _A fractured rib_ , he thought soberly as he prodded the affected area. He hissed when he felt the clean break.

“Time to pay for your crimes against humanity.”

In the dim ambience of the alley, the silhouette of the hulking figure in front of him was even more intimidating. He tried desperately to drag his body backward, feeling suddenly claustrophobic as his back collided with a brick wall behind him.

The man -- and he really couldn’t discern any other details in the darkness -- was holding out what looked like a video camera. The tell-tale red dot staring him in the face was like a harbinger of what was still yet to come.

“Wh-what’re you talking about?”

The second man crouched down in front of him, reaching into his pocket and pulling a photo out of his wallet.

“Our sister. You killed her and the rest of our family in that _twisted_ particle accelerator experiment of yours.” What had started out as a whisper crescendoed into a snarl.

The man with the camera unsheathed a knife and tossed it over to the other. Panic rose up in Cisco’s gut. For the first time during this encounter, he realized that this wasn’t a simple mugging. It was premeditated. Calculated. And as he watched the man in front of him run his finger along the edge of the blade, it dawned on him that he might not walk out of this alive.

“Please,” Cisco gasped, “I can explain.”

“Explain how you destroyed thousands of lives?” the cameraman sneered.

Cisco swallowed. Every time he thought he’d put the pain of the accelerator explosion behind him, something else came up. And what, really, was there to say? How was he supposed to defend himself? It may have been Eobard pulling the strings, but he should’ve realized, double-checked the calculations and seen the obvious flaw. _Hartley_ had figured it out on his own.

“I-- _gahh!_ ” Cisco wasn’t able to get a response in before he felt the knife plunge into his thigh.

And suddenly, the two of them were on him, raining down punches, kicks, jabs with the knife that were paper thin. They meant to drag this out, then.

His vision blurred as he took a punch to the temple.

Was this really how it was going to end?

He knew the chances were slim-to-none, but he had to do _something_. Anything was better than just laying in his grave. And he may not have been a hero like Barry was, but he had to fight back.

A sudden thought occurred to him: _Barry_. The panic button. His phone was still tucked inside his pocket. If he could just reach it, Barry would save him. He knew he would. So he fought past the pain and made his move.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

The phone was ripped out of his hand and a steel-toed boot came down hard on his fingers. Even without hearing the sickening crack, he knew that every single one of his digits was broken. He had been quiet throughout his torment thus far, but the fresh dose of pain caused him to scream. He just wished it would be over already.

“The Flash isn’t coming for you,” one of them laughed cruelly.

“Don’t think we didn’t notice how much STAR Labs has been helping the Flash.”

Cisco whimpered. His phone went the same way as his fingers and he felt his last hope of getting out of this situation slip away.

They were saying something to him again and he was aware of the camera being pointed in his face, but he was beginning to lose consciousness. He felt the scrawl of the knife across his chest, expected it to hurt, but where there should have been excruciating pain, there was only a dull sting. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. The movements were methodical as the blade sliced through flesh. Words, maybe.

“Barry…” he whispered desperately, nearly choking on his own blood. He hoped against all hope that the speedster would somehow hear him, then berated himself for almost giving away his secret identity. Barry was probably fast asleep by now, anyway; he’d looked like he’d needed a good lie-in after the events of late.

Cisco resigned himself to his fate. It was amazing how calm he felt when he stopped fighting it.

He wondered what the others would think when they found his body in the morning. Caitlin would probably mourn; Hartley...he couldn’t say exactly, but at least he could rest knowing that they’d made amends in this lifetime; and the Wests -- he’d miss them terribly. Being welcomed into their family with open arms, the festive dinners at the West residence that he felt more at home at than in his own family’s house, all of it. And then there was Barry, who had come crashing into his life like a thunderstorm on a hot, summer day. He’d honestly never had a best friend quite like Barry before.

The shadows began to close in, his vision myopic. Even the pain was beginning to subside. As he closed his eyes, he thought about how much he’d miss his chosen family.

 _“Hey!”_ he thought he heard someone shout as he finally, thankfully passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

Barry got the call in the middle of the night.

Or rather, as much as 4:02 A.M. could be considered the ‘middle of the night,’ he thought groggily as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“This better be good, Joe.”

“It’s Cisco, Bar. He was just admitted to Central City Hospital.”

Something in Barry’s chest jolted and he was dressed before Joe had even finished speaking. Normally, his speed afforded him the extra time to be choosy about his wardrobe choices, but he grabbed whatever was at hand tonight: that oversized STAR Labs sweatshirt and a pair of sweats that definitely didn’t pass the sniff test. He didn’t even bother styling his hair.

“What happened?” Barry asked a bit frantically. He scrolled through his phone for any missed calls from Cisco, but there were only a few goofy Snaps from earlier in the night. It looked like he’d been out having a good time.

“I don’t know, something about an assault. I’ll know more when I get to the hospital. Meet you there?”

It took Barry only a couple of seconds to reach the hospital. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve celebrated it as a personal record, but as it was now, his heart was beating out a rapid, staccato rhythm, anxious and agitated. He hadn’t even bothered responding to Joe, knowing that he’d get the message.

The Emergency Department was absolute chaos when he stepped inside as Barry Allen. Even if he couldn’t move at super speed, his mind still whizzed onward at a thousand miles per hour, impelling him to consider all of the gruesome scenarios Cisco could’ve been caught up in from every possible angle. The only ones that would require urgent hospitalization weren’t pleasant.

Minutes flew by and he still wasn’t able to flag down a nurse. He’d been told by many people many times that he wasn’t assertive enough, but this was starting to get ridiculous -- no one gave him the time of day to even point him in the right direction.

“Hi, I’m with CCPD and _\-- hey!_ ” His badge hung limply from his fingertips as the frazzled-looking nurse shoved past him.

The scene in front of him was like some mad waltz -- quivering, whirling, gyrating in its frenzied final act as the ship’s captain tried desperately to right its course. Doctors shouted instructions. Orderlies and nurses scrambled to comply. Phones rang and rang and rang unanswered, adding to the soaring cacophony. Patients shouted themselves hoarse at the receptionist. EMTs struggled to convey vital information over the symphony of beeping, yelling, buzzing.

It was overwhelming. Barry had to take a moment to sit down and steady himself. Cisco was somewhere in this hospital and he had to find him.

A hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. “Got here as fast as I could, son. Thought you’d be in to see him by now.”

“No one knows what’s going on,” Barry said quickly. If he sounded petulant, it was only because he was. As a CSI, he rarely, if ever, had to deal with hospitals unless it was a visit to the morgue. The disorder and pandemonium was unparalleled, and while he would’ve normally tried harder to keep his cool, this was _Cisco_ they were talking about. He was hurt (possibly even worse than that, Barry shuddered to think) and they still had no idea what was going on.

“Come on, up you go.” Joe dragged him up and pulled him through the throngs of patients and doctors both.

“CCPD. We’re here to see Francisco Ramon.” He flashed his badge at a stern-looking woman who was barking out orders to the staff around her.

She gave him an appraising look. “Third floor, but you’re going to have to wait. He’s still in surgery,” she said and walked away briskly.

“How did you do that? No one would even look at me when I asked…” Barry was admittedly in awe.

“It’s all about how you project yourself, Bar. Let’s go.” He gave him a slap on the back that Barry knew was meant to be reassuring, but which did nothing to calm his nerves.

The third floor was substantially more quiet, the hum of medical equipment otherwise the only sound echoing through the sterile halls. Barry was in a daze as the head nurse came over to Joe to file a police report. There were words like ‘contusion,’ ‘punctured lung,’ and ‘globe luxation.’ Then: ‘aggravated assault,’ ‘torture,’ and ‘attempted murder.’

His blood ran cold.

What the hell had happened? Cisco had wanted some time alone tonight, but Barry should’ve pushed him harder. He should’ve _been there_. If he had, he would’ve been able to protect him. Cisco was -- he wasn’t completely defenseless. He’d held his own against Hartley in the original timeline, a fact that he liked to remind Barry and Caitlin of often over coffee at Jitters. But they hadn’t even begun to explore his offensive powers yet, and he displayed a total lack of affinity for combat.

And just like that, the growing sense of unease in the pit of his stomach was replaced with a gnawing guilt.

God, why hadn’t he been there? The worry lines on Cisco’s face had been increasing lately, but instead of trying to get through to him, he’d given up and kept his distance. He should’ve prodded harder. Hell, Cisco had always pushed his boundaries when he knew Barry was going through something, and Barry had always felt better because of it. He should’ve done the same.

He heard Joe calling out to him as he strode to the end of the hallway, but he had to see for himself what fragile state Cisco’s body was in. As soon as he rounded the corner, he ran, streaking through storage closets, restrooms, and patient units as he tried to navigate through the labyrinthine floorplan. Orderlies cried out in protest as he left a veritable tornado in his wake. He couldn’t worry about that, though. There was only one thing on his mind.

When he finally found the operating room, he slowed to a walk, mindful not to disturb any of the surgeons, of which there were many. _Why_ were there so many of them? The operating table was surrounding by at least a dozen gowned figures and the scene was more reminiscent of an alien dissection than an emergency surgery. Just how badly had Cisco been hurt?

He let his entire body vibrate and slipped into the wall. Out of sight. He wanted to get closer, but dreaded what would happen if he startled any of them. And besides, at this distance it was easy to maintain a clinical detachment, or at least trick himself into believing in his disinterest; he was only supposed to be here to acquire the facts.

The operating table was barely visible from where his head protruded from the wall, much less Cisco’s body. He...needed to see for himself, even full well knowing that when he did, it would break him.

“Jesus, how’re we meant to get his eye back in? Should we just remove it?”

“There’s swelling around the socket, but we can push it in.”

“We need to drain the fluid from his lungs first, or we won’t have to bother wi--”

“He’s crashing! Get the cart!”

“Intracranial pressure is rising again. We need to stop the swelling.”

“Clear!”

The last thing he heard before he ran was the high-pitched whine of the defibrillator. He felt the bile rising in his throat, and he knew he was a coward, but he couldn’t continue to watch. Not after that.

He found himself staring back into Joe’s concerned eyes, shaking his head mutely. Joe walked him over to the waiting area as he rubbed soothing circles into Barry’s back. It didn’t help him relax. Not really. The taut muscles in his back grew even tenser as he thought about what he saw.

If he lost Cisco…

It would be like losing Iris or Joe. He couldn’t lose him. There were certain, non-negotiable components of Barry’s life, and Cisco was one of them.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, elbows on his knees, head in the palms of his hands, but he must’ve fallen asleep at some point because when he came to, his head was in Joe’s lap. He sat up slowly, brushing Joe’s hand out of his hair and stretching the cricks out of his back from sleeping at a nearly right angle. It was like he was eleven years old all over again and Joe was comforting him from a long night of nightmares.

Early morning rays of sunlight shined their way through the elevated slits high up towards the ceiling that Barry supposed passed for windows.

He bolted upright when he remembered why they were here.

“Joe. Joe!” Barry shook him frantically. “Wake up. We have to find Cisco.”

Joe blinked slowly. “...What time is it?”

“Nearly 7. Come on.”

Joe rubbed his face and pointed to the woman walking purposefully towards them. She looked important. In charge.

“I understand you’re here about Mr. Ramon.” It wasn’t a question.

“What can you tell us about his condition?” Joe asked as he fumbled with his badge.

She launched into a meticulous account of Cisco’s injuries. “Five fractured ribs, both lungs punctured, globe luxation in his left eye, severe cerebral edema, depressed skull fracture. Multiple knife wounds to his chest and thighs. Broken right kneecap, and all fingers on both hands broken. He’s lucky he was brought in so quickly.”

Her businesslike tone matched the sterility of the hospital. Distant and aloof.

“Will he live…?” Barry’s voice trembled, sounding frail even to his own ears. As the Flash, every single death ate away at him. Eddie. Ronnie. The hundreds lost in the Singularity. A part of him wouldn’t ever stop grieving for every one of them. The level of detachment this doctor displayed...Barry wondered how much death she saw that she could discuss Cisco’s injuries with the air of someone deciding whether the Sauvignon Blanc or the Chardonnay paired better with the roast chicken.

“He’s stable for now. We had to place him in an induced coma to stop the swelling in his brain. You can see him now to write your report, but you’ll have to wait until he wakes up to question him.”

“And when will that be, exactly?” Joe asked.

Barry heard her explaining to Joe that each case was different, and it could be anywhere from a couple of days to more than a week. The most salient word -- the _only_ word -- he had really paid any attention to, though, was _coma_.

Cisco was in a coma.

This was real life.

He hadn’t been there to protect Cisco.

He followed in a stupor as she led them to the ICU. Even walking at a regular pace, they reached the room far too quickly. His brain was fully functioning at top speed, but his thoughts were a blur. He wondered if Cisco’s family was here yet. How could he face them knowing that he’d failed completely?

The doctor held open the door for them and they filed in mutely.

Barry braced himself.

“Cisco…” he whimpered. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to speed over to the hospital bed. Cisco looked so small, dwarfed by the array of machines that bleeped loudly as they worked overtime to maintain his bodily functions. A small team of nurses scurried about, adjusting the IV drips, raising the elevation of the bed, bundling up bloody sheets for cleaning. Barry tried not to think about the last one too much.

When he finally reached the bedside, the first thing he noticed was the complete absence of hair on Cisco’s left side. His scalp was prickly to the touch, not at all like the wavy style that had lead him to proclaim his conditioner game was on point.

“Wh-what happened to his head?” Barry managed to choke out.

“We had to shave part of his head for the craniectomy. He would’ve died from the swelling without the procedure,” one of the nurses said absentmindedly, preoccupied with the readings she was jotting down on a convoluted-looking chart.

The body in front of him didn’t look anything like Cisco. His face was swollen far beyond normal proportions. Barry wanted to reach out, to grasp Cisco’s fingers in a reassuring way, but he couldn’t even do that with the multitude of splints and bandages in the way. Then, there was the dressing wrapped tightly around his torso, probably to keep his ribs from moving too much.

“There’s something you should see,” the doctor said. Barry hadn’t even realized she was still here.

She peeled back the bandage across Cisco’s chest and Barry did a double take at the incisions scrawled into the flesh there.

 _M U R D E R E R_.

Barry couldn’t breathe. Cisco, a murderer? Was there a more inaccurate label for someone so gentle?

“Any idea what happened to him?” Joe asked, taking over as Barry just stared on in shock.

“The EMTs said a young woman called it in. She saw two men beating him in an alley near 32nd and Petersburg, but they ran when she yelled at them. I’m sure Mr. Ramon can tell you more when he wakes up.”

“Is he going to make a full recovery?”

“We’re cautiously optimistic, but...that remains to be seen. Even if he does, it’s going to be a long road to recovery.”

“I need -- I need to…” Barry started, unsure of what exactly it was that he needed.

“We’re gonna find these guys, Bar,” Joe said with a determined look in his eye.

It was too much, though. He staggered out of the room. Iris was waiting outside. Caitlin and Hartley were standing off to the side, and even Dante was with them. They were bombarding him with questions, but he ran anyway.

Only when he was well outside Central City limits did he let himself think. Aside from the guilt and the despair, there was a deep...rage that settled beneath his bones. When Cold had taken Cisco, there was a burning need to bring him to justice, to bring him to heel, but certainly under the confines of the law. To stop him from hurting anyone else again.

This, though? This felt personal. Cisco had been defenseless and those animals had ruthlessly tortured him -- beaten him to within an inch of his life. How could a set of handcuffs and a cell in Iron Heights ever be adequate punishment for what they had done? Barry pondered that as he backtracked and combed the streets of Central City. Whoever these men were, they would be long gone by now, but that didn't stop him from scouring the alley for any clues, mindful not to disturb the scene for the detectives who were no doubt headed to the initial investigation.

The next few hours were particularly trying. He felt like bottled lightning, waiting to hear about any leads from CCPD or any change in Cisco’s condition. He’d sped through the crime scene forensics, which had been easy given the scant evidence left behind. He’d checked in at the hospital every hour, even though visits had been restricted to family until Cisco woke up. And that was some bullshit, Barry thought to himself. Couldn’t they see? He _was_ family. Him and the rest of the STAR Labs team. It didn’t matter, though, because with his powers, there wasn’t much that could keep him out. He’d lost track of how many times the bewildered ICU staff had kicked him out at around the fifth time.

That evening, Dante was there when he was detected by the disgruntled nurses.

Dante gave him a stern look before saying “It’s alright, he’s family.”

“Thanks,” Barry said cautiously as he watched the team of nurses beat their retreat.

He hadn’t had much contact with the older Ramon brother before. Barry knew Cisco had been working on mending his relationship with Dante, but he’d figured it was none of his business and hadn’t pried, not least of all because Cisco hadn’t exactly been forthcoming with the details.

And then there was the fact that Dante had been kidnapped by the Snarts because of _Barry_. Their friendship wasn’t quite off to the glowing start he’d hoped for. Plus, Barry hadn’t the slightest idea of Dante’s inclinations towards the Flash, which only served to make this moment more awkward.

Dante immediately cleared up any confusion on that last point, though.

“The Flash is going to get these sons of bitches, right?” he asked with a hard look in his eye.

Barry took a second before nodding.

He would.

Alongside his newfound determination, he felt a growing darkness just beyond the horizon, thrumming, pulsating, and throbbing. Threatening to engulf him.

 

* * *

 

 

“You’re gonna want to see this” Joe said.

“What?” Barry raced over to Joe’s side by the Flash suit’s display, the others following along behind him.

“This video was uploaded an hour ago. Thirty thousand hits already.”

The title read _Criminal Scientist Punished for Central City Atrocities_.

Barry inhaled audibly. If this was what he thought it was...CCPD hadn’t released its report yet, so the details of the crime (or that any crime had taken place at all) shouldn’t’ve been public knowledge.

Joe hit the playback on his phone.

 _Time to pay for your crimes against humanity_.

There was the sickening sound of a fist meeting flesh and a small voice crying out. The video was grainy and the lighting in the alley was of a muted sort, but there wasn’t much left to the imagination as Cisco slid back in terror, begging the imposing figure advancing on him to stop.

 _Please, I can explain_.

A jeer and the twist of a knife. A scream.

 _The Flash isn’t coming for you_.

Whimpering as the knife sliced out thin letters over bloody skin.

 _Hey!_ A far off voice in the distance. Female by the sound of it.

 _Shit. Let’s go_.

The video cut off abruptly. In front of Barry, Caitlin had a hand over her mouth and Hartley’s face was ashen. Joe had an arm around Iris as she sobbed into his shoulder. They were all of them speechless in the face of such senseless violence.

And yet, Barry could feel his temper rising inexplicably, memories of red eyes and a surge of anger bubbling up inside him, only this time he didn’t even have Rainbow Raider as a handy excuse. This went so far beyond justice, now. A small part of him had known it the second he had seen those injuries on Cisco, but the video sealed the deal. There was a cavernous disparity between knowing that it had happened and actually seeing it happen with his own two eyes, a bit like remembering the tornado of lightning that had seemingly killed his mother versus finally putting a face to the man in the yellow suit.

He let it wash over him, the anger that was threatening to consume him whole. After all, had it not been Barry who’d said that hatred was a strong motivator? Right now, it seemed like anger and hatred were one and the same.

“Barry! You’re--” Caitlin pointed at his chest, and when Barry looked down, his entire body was vibrating, small arcs of yellow lightning rolling off of it in waves. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been doing it, but easily willed his muscles to stop their minute vibrations and calmed himself down as much as he could given the circumstances.

Iris was leading him away from the others, though. When had she gotten so close?

When they were out of earshot, she implored: “I know how you’re feeling right now and I want to see these guys brought to justice just as much as you do. But please, Bar, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

He knew Iris cared a lot about Cisco, but she didn’t understand. How could she? Cisco was _his_ to protect. They all were -- Caitlin, Iris, Joe, even Hartley to a certain extent. He’d promised himself that he would do better after Ronnie had flown into the Singularity, but he’d gone and let it happen again: he’d let someone he cared about get hurt.

“You think I don’t understand, but I do,” Iris said, seeming to have read his mind. “You think you have this duty to protect all of us at any cost, but you can’t burden yourself like that. There are things outside of your control.”

She clasped Barry’s hands in her own, her voice practically a whisper. “When Eddie shot himself...you don’t know how many times I thought to myself what would’ve happened if I’d been in the pipeline with him. I could’ve stopped him…”

“What?! Iris, no! You -- there wasn’t anything you could’ve possibly done that day!”

“That’s exactly my point, Barry. It was a normal night for Cisco, and it’s not a crime for you to call it an early night on a Friday. So unless you plan on gluing yourself to Cisco’s side, stop beating yourself up over this.”

Barry deflated. Iris was amazing and mostly right and had the uncanny ability to help him see past all the noise, and he loved her for it. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t his fault, but it was easier to pretend it was than accept that there were certain things completely out of his control. What good was having superpowers if he couldn’t protect the people he cared about most with them?

But even if he accepted that he wasn’t responsible for Cisco’s current state, there was still one other problem.

“But I can’t just let those monsters off the hook for what they did, Iris. You saw the video,” Barry said firmly.

“We’ll catch them, though. Make sure they’re punished under the law.”

Softly, Barry spoke: “What if they deserve more than that?”

“What?” Iris’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean…?”

“No, of course not. But...they’re just going to be sent to Iron Heights where the only thing they’ll have to worry about is the crappy food and the cramped cells. How is that fair?” His fingers threaded through his hair. Frantic. Agitated. “Cisco’s practically in a full body cast and he might be crippled for the rest of his life. How can I -- I can’t just…”

“I know, I know,” Iris said as she hugged him tight, rubbing his back gently as he buried himself into the crook of her neck.

“Just promise me,” she said after a beat, “whatever you do, you’ll think hard before going through with it. Cisco wouldn’t want you to destroy yourself on some crusade in his name.”

When they finally let go of each other, Barry said “I...yeah, I can do that.”

It was tentative. He didn’t want to lie to Iris, and he wouldn’t. When the time came, he’d tell her what he planned to do to them, but he didn’t see how he could just walk away from this without doing _something_. With every brutal reminder of what had happened to Cisco, the answer became clearer to Barry.

As the two of them walked back over to the main console, though, another distressing fact became apparent to him.

“What next?” Joe asked.

Barry recognized the looks they were giving him: they were looking to him for guidance. For him to be their leader in this and...no. He couldn’t possibly drag them into the fray. He couldn’t let whatever this burgeoning animus was taint the others too, so he put on the facade -- the one he’d been easing into for the past two years whenever the burdens of his double life became too much to bear --and gave them what little direction he could. Analyze the video and find any clues that could point to the assailants’ identities. Scan the surrounding surveillance cams for any relevant footage. The usual routine when they were faced with a rogue meta or supervillain.

When they actually found these men, though...Barry didn’t want them anywhere near what he was going to do.

Iris was pure. Caitlin was pure. Joe had a reputation as a detective to uphold. He couldn’t let this touch any of them, but it didn’t have to: the Flash could operate where the others couldn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

CCPD had immediately begun its own high-profile investigation as it was apt to do when one of its own was brutally assaulted, even if the person of interest was a mere scientific advisor. Barry knew Cisco had been well-liked by much of the precinct too, which largely contributed to the sense of purpose that had been ignited in the large team assigned to work his case.

On his end, Barry kept his ears open for any useful information he could glean from inside the station. He performed all his usual duties as CSI, especially as they pertained to Cisco, but kept his head down.

Quietly, he cleared off the old murder board in his office, a holdover from nearly a year ago now. In its place, he put up news clippings, stills from the assault video, partial fingerprint samples from the crime scene, anything at all that might help lead to a location. It was lonely work, as he really did function better with his team standing beside him, but it couldn’t be helped this time. Besides, he’d had experience after the Singularity.

Barry worked like a man possessed. During the day, he split his time between routine CCPD business and tending to Cisco, who by the third day still hadn’t woken up yet. In the evenings, he managed his Flash patrols and sporadic meetings with the others, trying his best to walk the fine line between leading them and keeping them oblivious to his true intentions. And on top of it all, he worked tireless nights in front of the murder board hoping for a breakthrough. Barry hadn’t even known that candles had this many ends to burn until now.

His days were long and his nights, even longer, but his work grounded him and soothed his nerves. The team, though, seemed concerned about his physical health (something about the bags under his eyes and the pale hue of his cheeks), so he did his best to course-correct and keep up appearances.

It was on the fourth night that Hartley showed up to his lab at CCPD. Barry scrambled to cover the murder board, not even bothering to hide the use of his speed, though Hartley only raised an eyebrow and marched wordlessly over to the desk, pulling out his own laptop and spreading out his own notes over Barry’s.

He didn’t bother lying to Hartley, firstly because the one-time villain was smart as all hell, and secondly because that look in his eyes had abided no argument.

Their friendship was a peculiar one. They generally worked in silence, mostly speaking to corroborate facts and evidence. Barry got along well enough with Hartley, though; he had a particular respect for him after he’d figured out how destroy the Time Wraith, but it wasn’t like they spent their free time together or anything. Still, Hartley had come out for drinks with them a few times at Cisco and Caitlin’s insistence, and it had always been a good time.

Some nights, when Barry forgot to feed himself in the midst of poring over test results, Hartley would slide a large bag of takeout towards him, cognizant of his enormous daily caloric intake. Others, Hartley would pass out from exhaustion, drooling all over the small folding desk he had appropriated for himself, and Barry would toss a blanket over him before heading out for the night.

And yet, there was a definite recognition in Barry’s mind that this was a friendship of convenience, which he could tell Hartley knew, too. It was okay, though, united as they were in pursuit of a common goal. It was all business and favors right now -- the socializing could come later. It felt like their friendship was developing in reverse, but Barry couldn’t worry about that right now. Eyes on the prize and all that.

“How’s Cisco doing?” Hartley broached late one night, breaking the amiable silence.

“Healing, but still not awake,” Barry said. He stabbed at his helping of beef and broccoli a little more forcefully than was strictly necessary. “You haven’t been to visit?”

“You’re kind of the only one of us allowed in to see him right now. Family only, remember? After that stunt you pulled with Dante?”

“That wasn’t… I didn’t mean to--!” Barry sputtered. Jesus. In his quest for revenge, he hadn’t even considered that the others would want to see him too. That they couldn’t even get past reception. God, how selfish he’d been.

“I know,” Hartley said gently.

“I could sneak you in? I mean, only if you want…” Barry tried hesitantly. He hoped Hartley would realize that it was as much a genuine offer as it was an apology.

“Yeah,” Hartley said, followed by a long pause. Barry wondered what was going through his mind. “...Yeah, I’d like that.”

Hartley grinned and life moved on.

But beneath the warm demeanor, Barry recognized the haunted look on his features underneath the heavy bags. There was a darkness in Hartley’s eyes that Barry saw reflected in his own in the mirror every morning. He couldn’t forget that the Pied Piper had tried to kill him by shredding his internal organs on the Cleveland Dam that night, even if that was in the old timeline. The intention had been there before long before the point Barry had injected himself into in the past.

That darkness had been part of the reason Barry hadn’t sent him packing yet. He knew it was a bad idea for them to be feeding off each other like this -- a real-life synergistic effect. Cisco and Hartley had been thick as thieves in this new timeline, and he couldn’t deny Hartley what he so obviously needed as well. Hell, between them, Barry wasn’t sure who needed this more.

 

* * *

 

 

The instant that video had begun circulating on the internet, the media had descended into a frenzy. A protective security detail had been assigned just outside Cisco’s room, because apparently the only thing juicier than live footage of a defenseless civilian getting beaten and tortured was photos of the battered body in the hospital.

It rankled Barry enough that he’d put on the Flash suit a few times and dropped off some of the more aggressive paparazzi at the precinct for booking. Of course, that had invited all sorts of questions about why the Flash was so concerned with some reporters instead of catching Cisco Ramon’s aggressors. Barry had to leave before he actually hurt someone -- no broken bones, but a mild super-sonic punch would definitely hurt.

He slipped past the reporters and into one of the hospital’s storerooms to change back into his civvies. Distracted as he was, he’d had a rougher-than-usual patrol on his lunch break, .

“Rough day?” Caitlin asked, stepping out from the shadows. They had agreed to meet here so that Barry could sneak her in for a visit.

“You could say that,” he grumbled. Today had marked the fourth straight day that Cisco was the front page story on all the major newspapers. Iris had apologized profusely for not being able to stop Scott from running with it in the _Picture News_ , but he didn’t blame her at all. At least they’d chosen a nice picture of Cisco to go along with the article, which he supposed was as good of a silver lining as he was going to get.

“Ready?” He turned around and moved in to pick her up when--

 _SMACK_.

“Ow!”

Caitlin crossed her arms huffily. “That’s for shutting all of us out.”

“I wasn’t trying to shut you out…” Except that was exactly what he’d been trying to do. What was he supposed to say? Caitlin nagged them when they broke lab violations by bringing food into the Cortex, so he was pretty sure “I’m planning to savagely beat the criminals who did this to Cisco” was a non-starter.

“That’s a lie and you know it.” She continued to bore into him with a steady gaze. It felt like he was being x-rayed. “Do I need to remind you that I’ve known Cisco far longer than you have? I care about him, too.”

Barry sighed. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just...with everything that’s been going on, I didn’t even realize you guys couldn’t visit him.” He left it unspoken that visiting a comatose body was an exercise in futility, but it was what their ragtag group did. Waking up with someone by your side was just...comforting.

“Look, I get that you have a lot on your plate right now, but we can help, Barry. We’re supposed to be a team.”

Barry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I can try not to be so distant,” he conceded. He could at least give her that. Just because his own life was on hold for the time being didn’t mean that he had to put off spending time with his friends.

He knew, though, that Caitlin and Joe would be appalled if they knew what he was going to do. Iris...he didn’t know; she would probably offer him her ear when he was finally ready to open up, but he couldn’t take that from her, too. Hartley was the only one who would approve, and that just made it worse.

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Caitlin nudged.

Barry tried for a grin and thought he even might have succeeded. He shook his head. “Ready to go see him?”

Caitlin cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow when he still couldn’t comprehend the issue. “In your suit?”

“Oh! Right. Hang on.” He shrugged off the leather two-piece and slipped on his cardigan and jeans in a blur. “All good.”

“Wait, what’s that?” Caitlin had practically squeaked, pointed at his midriff, and rushed over to him to get a better look.

Barry wasn’t sure what she was talking about until he looked down himself and noticed the angry gash stretching from his hip bone to navel. Oops. He’d felt the sting from the knife graze before, but hadn’t exactly had the time to tend to it. Caitlin was less than amused when he told her that though, and he obeyed silently as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves, grabbed the rubbing alcohol from one of the shelves behind her, and began disinfecting the wound. Doctor mode activated, then.

He felt kind of bad now. For the entire time Barry had known her, Caitlin had a tendency to worry even more than he did. What had happened to Cisco had rattled her enough that she probably didn’t need to be having a meltdown about Barry’s health on top of everything else.

“So...how are you?” she asked, laser focused on his torso as she threaded the needle through his skin. “Barry Allen, I mean. Not the Flash.” The fact that she had to clarify that wasn’t lost on Barry.

“He’s...okay.” Barry smiled tentatively, even though she had her face practically flush against his body and still wasn’t looking at him. “Missing one of his best friends, but glad to have you standing beside him.”

“Just like the good old days, right?” She snipped the thread with a flourish. _The good old days_. For the first time, Barry considered how much Caitlin had lost on this journey as well. First, Ronnie, then finding out Jay was actually a psychopathic lunatic. He’d been so caught up in his own grief and worry for Cisco that the others’ concerns had been pushed to his periphery.

And then he wanted to kick himself for being so self-centered. Now didn’t feel like the time to be airing out past sorrows though.

“I miss hanging out with you and Cisco,” he confessed. That was honest. Safe.

“We’ll have to celebrate, then. Just the three of us. As soon as Cisco’s better.” She punctuated her sentences with a sharp weight and a bright grin as she ripped off her gloves.

“Definitely.” As he leaned in to pick her up, he added apologetically, “You might want to hold on. I have to run up the side of the hospital through the window since I can’t phase through stuff with you.”

*

“Is there anything you can do on your end to help speed up the healing process?” Barry asked. He held Cisco’s wrapped hand in his own. At first, he’d hated the way the bandages felt in his fingers, but after all of his visits and bedside vigils, it was starting to feel normal.

“Did you try…?” Caitlin wiggled her fingers.

“I did,” Barry admitted. The first time he’d held Cisco’s battered fingers, he’d thought _something_ might happen. He’d hoped, in any case “It didn’t work though. That time with Jesse, it just felt right, like I knew it would happen before I even touched her. It just feels like something’s blocking the connection now.” Like he was a few hundred yards from the shore but couldn’t see past the fog and the haze.

Caitlin hummed thoughtfully. “That’s weird. I did have an idea, though. I was just waiting to see you in person to tell you,” she said from her spot at the edge of the bed.

Barry winced and apologized profusely again even though Caitlin swore it was fine. He was definitely going to be more present going forward.

“Anyway, I think I might be able to engineer a healing serum based on the regenerative abilities of your speedster body cells. I’ll need to run some tests though…”

“Yes! Anything you need, just name it,” he said eagerly.

Based on the far-off look in her eyes, Barry knew she was probably running through all the formulas and chemical equations in her head already. But he was preoccupied with his own thoughts, and for the first time, he was hopeful.

There was a light at the end of the tunnel. He could see it.

 

* * *

 

 

“Wait, go back. He said something,” Hartley said, squinting at the computer screen as if that would somehow allow him to hear better.

Barry rewound the video.

_The Flash isn’t coming for you._

In the grainy feed, Cisco’s mouth moved and murmured something imperceptible. Just outside the range of normal human hearing.

“Can you clean it up?” Barry felt stupid for asking as Hartley flashed him an unamused look. Hey, this was his first time working with Hartley directly. He had no idea what his skillset comprised. CCPD could definitely use him, though, if his audio and video software acumen was any indication.

“Just a few more seconds,” Hartley said. His fingers tapped out a presto rhythm as they danced over the keyboard and clicked away at the mouse.

And then the video was replaying again. The audio was clearer this time, but Barry still couldn’t hear it on the first go around. With his heightened auditory range, though, Hartley must have, because his muttered “I’m sorry” and a comforting hand on Barry’s shoulder had Barry’s stomach in knots.

He had to replay it a second time before he could finally make out the whispers.

_Barry…_

“You shouldn’t--” Hartley started, but Barry didn’t wait to hear what exactly he shouldn’t’ve been doing.

He was _livid_.

He screamed with all of the pent up rage of the past week as they still hadn’t caught the men who had effectively thrown Cisco’s life in limbo.

He screamed at the injustice of Cisco’s being laid up in the hospital while he was safe and whole here in his lab.

Screamed most of all at his own inadequacy, Cisco’s final words an indictment of Barry’s failure to protect him.

The world slowed down around him as he walked at breakneck speed, first over to his filing cabinets where he ripped drawers off of their rails and shredded documents with his bare hands, knocking over the entire apparatus for good measure; then over to the forensics workstation where he systematically shattered every beaker and flask within reach.

He kept moving, mindful not to stop because then he wouldn’t have to think. No stone was left unturned. Even the sunroof was ruined after he ran up the wall and across the ceiling.

When he finally slowed down, the room looked as if a tornado had hit it. Shards of glass hung suspended in the air. Pieces of torn paper. Drops of luminol and clumps of ninhydrin.

And Hartley was at the center of it all, hardly even having finished blinking yet.

The world reverted to its normal speed and the whirling tempest fell to the ground with an angry clangor. There was no one else in the precinct besides the two of them, anyway.

He had hoped these past few days would constitute a ‘cool down’ period, that he could talk himself down from going through with this, but he was slowly coming to terms with this burning need coursing through his veins that could only be satisfied by one thing: retribution. Blood. It sang with the desire for vengeance and violence. Despite his best efforts, he was met with explicit reminders of Cisco’s plight at every turn -- his body, the video, the jagged blood splatters in the alley -- and he was tired of trying to smother this urge.

Maybe it was time he embraced it.

Wordlessly. Hartley helped him put the lab back together, or at least something resembling functional. Barry would probably regret this in the morning when he had to turn in his reports for the week, but right now, it was just cathartic.

*

They were so close. Barry could feel it. Between the eyewitness description from the woman who called in the beating and the multiple hits from facial recognition software, it was only a matter of time before they were found.

His heart fluttered in anticipation, its pitter patter like a hummingbird as he waited anxiously for the news.

Hartley pulled him aside one night and quietly showed him where the most sensitive nerve clusters and pain centers were located on the human body. Barry practiced on one of those life-sized dummies that the police department had always left lying around. Aside from training on the treadmill, he had never found it necessary to hone his combat skills, save for the few times Oliver blew through town and forced him to spar.

He thrust an arm at the dummy and dug his thumb firmly into the shoulder seam.

“Harder,” Hartley said from his perch in front of the computer. “That pressure point is fairly deep. You’re not exerting nearly enough pressure, see?” He flipped the monitor around in presentation, the color contours on the body diagram confirming his words.

Barry walked back to the dummy. Determined. On the second go, he infused his jab with a bit of speed and the electricity coursing through his arm left singe marks on the pliable rubber beneath his fingers.

“Good,” Hartley nodded. “The key is pressing inward with just the right amount of pressure. Too much, and the pain receptors don’t respond nearly as well.”

Information to be stored for later. Barry wiped the sweat from his brow on his shirtsleeves. There was a mild exertion from this sort of training -- the kind of soreness that disappeared within minutes but still left him breathing heavily. He belatedly realized that the baggy sweatpants he was wearing weren’t doing him any favors in the sweat department, and boy did sweat _a lot_ these days.

Hartley seemed to have picked up on his exhaustion and powered off the monitor. “That’s enough for today, I think.”

“No,” Barry said immediately. “I can keep going.” He jogged over to the dingy storage locker and pulled out one of those energy bars that Cisco had insisted he stock up on at the station in case of emergencies. Everywhere he went these days, there seemed to be reminders of Cisco, whether it was Caitlin’s voice over the comms (which was distinctly _not_ Cisco’s voice) or the absence of their mid-week Star Trek marathons.

Hartley followed him with a watchful gaze until he was stood in front of the test dummy once more. “Alright, then,” Hartley said after a beat, shrugged off his blazer (because apparently ‘training session’ had meant science-casual attire to him, Barry noticed), and closed the gap between them.

“Right on the side of the neck,” Hartley indicated with a light tap on his shoulder, before pressing down firmly and causing him to wince. There was a part of Barry that was interested in how Hartley came to be so adept at hand-to-hand combat, but that hardly seemed relevant right now. “The main idea is…”

Barry let the words wash over him. Truthfully, he was tired. Had _been_ tired for the past week, but the training helped to center and focus him.

Sometimes, he imagined the faces of Cisco’s assailants on the dummies. By now, the team had ID’d them and he’d committed those faces to memory. Could probably pick them out of a line up of hundreds. The scar below the first one’s eye down to his nostril. The pointed, unkempt beard of the second. He had taken to calling them Scarface and Goatee for the sake of labeling (even though he was sure Cisco could do better and would probably disapprove of his choices), but he never bothered learning their names, because what good would it do at this point? Their stories, no matter how tragic, didn’t excuse what they had done, and this was all made easier when there wasn’t a human aspect to them.

*

Finally, _finally_ the day came. Hartley had tracked down the perps when they’d turned their old cell phones on. A monumentally stupid mistake. They’d probably thought they were in the clear.

And oh, how wrong they were.

None of the evidence had pointed to them being particularly bright, though.

But Barry had a feeling that the universe was testing him. It was the only explanation, actually, because Iris was calling him a few minutes later, voice frantic as she told him Cisco had just woken up.

It felt poetic.

Revenge, or Cisco.

What choice was there really, though? He would choose Cisco in this universe and every other one. Every. Single. Time.

There was no question: he absolutely had to be there when Cisco woke up. Besides, he thought ominously to himself, it wasn’t like these guys were going to be escaping anytime soon.

 

* * *

 

 

“Welcome back, Mr. Ramon.”

Cisco’s family had just filed out after a brief reunion -- something about both of his parents still being on shift.

The swelling on his face had gone done a bit, Barry was happy to note, but he’d have been lying if he’d said Cisco was looking back to his old self.

“H-hey, Bar,” Cisco rasped out, voice completely hoarse from disuse. Barry zipped over to the nightstand and poured a glass of water from the jug, tipped Cisco’s head back, and carefully let the fluid slide into his mouth.

“Emb’r’sing,” Cisco mumbled. But it was what had to be done as Cisco’s fingers were healing, and Barry would be there to do it.

“How’re you feeling?”

“In pain.” Cisco let out a small giggle, which turned into wheezing cough. He held up a hand when Barry tried to move in, though, and simply gestured to to the IV drip to his right. “Got the good painkillers, so it’s all good.”

“Shit, Cis -- I’m so, so sorry, Cisco.” He couldn’t keep himself from holding back any longer, lunging at the bed and hugging Cisco hard. The angle was all wrong and it felt more like he was gunning for the title of “worst human blanket” -- he tucked himself into Cisco’s side and draped an arm over his chest and around his neck, careful of the wrapped ribs -- but he didn’t care because it felt so right.  

Barry felt the rattle in Cisco’s chest that indicated he was trying to speak. “Not your fault,” is what finally came out.

“It _is_ , though.” He sat up and looked Cisco in the eye. His (relatively) calm voice masked how not-okay he was. “I swear I won’t let something like this happen again.”

Cisco shook his head, pupils dilated and glazed over. “Couldn’t’ve stopped it. Seriously, not blaming you at all. I’m...’m not a good person, Barry.”

“What? Of course you are…” There couldn’t have been a statement out there any further from the truth.

“The particle accelerator explosion. It was my fault,” Cisco sniffled and ducked his head. “They said it was.”

“No! No, no, no, no, no. It was all Wells, remember? He admitted it to us. He sabotaged the experiment.” And Barry knew he definitely should not have been having this conversation now. Not when Cisco was all looped up on heavy duty painkillers. But drunk words, sober thoughts, and all that. He had to set the record straight now, before the damage was done.

And he _hated_ \-- absolutely hated -- that Cisco was the victim here and was made to think he was the criminal. Just another thing to add to the long list of transgressions these men had committed.

Cisco shook his head rapidly and blinked the tears out of his eyes. The flashing and beeping of the heart rate monitor indicated just how agitated he was.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me. That wasn’t on you. You did everything you could to stop it. And look at everything you’ve done for this city,” Barry said earnestly. “You’re a hero, dude.”

He threaded the fingers of his right hand through Cisco’s and rubbed slow circles on the backside with his left. It seemed to help significantly even through the bandages, if the slowing of the beeps was any indication, so he kept it up. And he hoped the physical contact might spark something. He had no idea what he did to Jesse last time -- maybe some transfer of his accelerated healing -- but he hoped he could replicate it this time.

Nothing.

Not even a spark, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t disappointed.

Still, the trembling and sniffling lessened by degrees as Barry kept up his ministrations. Soon, they’d be able to touch without the obstruction of cotton and polyester and latex.

They stayed like that for a few minutes before Cisco spoke up: “You’re a good person, Barry.”

It didn’t really feel that way -- not right now -- but when Cisco said it, he couldn’t help but believe him.

“No, really,” Cisco’s voice was slightly slurred. “You’re the only good thing to come from the particle accelerator.”

“Not the only good thing,” Barry corrected. He let go of Cisco’s hand and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “I never would’ve met you, or cleared my dad’s name.”

Cisco shook his head slowly. “I’m not...I can’t…”

“‘Course you can.” He held Cisco’s one hand in his two again and pressed gently as he massaged the joints with slow vibrations.

“Feels good,” Cisco muttered.

For another couple of minutes, they were silent. The quiet shuddering of Barry’s fingers intermingled with the steady beeping of the machines to create a pleasant backdrop until Cisco shifted suddenly. He gave Barry a manic smile. “Anyway, enough about me. What about you? I want to hear everything I missed, man. Come on.” He sounded almost like himself, but Barry had whiplash from how quickly the conversation had pivoted.

Barry humored him, anyway.

“There’s a Cisco-shaped abyss in my life right now” was what he wanted to say. It was probably a bit too heavy though, so he went with a succinct “I miss you” instead, which was no less heartfelt.

“Uh huh, and how’re the speedster adventures going?”

“It’s...not the same without you,” Barry ventured. “Oh, I got that,” he added when Cisco reached for the remote to incline the bed.

“Hey, you’re not knocking Cait’s skills, right? ‘Cause you have no idea how scary she can be. I ever tell you about the time she hid in the lab after hours and scared me in a Guy Fawkes mask?”

Barry chuckled. That indignant tone and Cisco getting worked up was adorable. “Guess I’ll just have to keep an eye out, then. Hey! I almost forgot,” he perked up at the mention of Caitlin. “She’s been working all week on a serum that’ll help you heal faster. It’s made from a sample of my cells and their accelerated healing.”

“Dude, that’s nasty.” Cisco scrunched his nose. “Am I gonna have little bits of you inside me?” The fondness in his eyes betrayed his words, though, and Barry used a bit of his speed to ball up one of the napkins on the food tray and toss it at Cisco’s face. “If I could move right now, I’d have you dead to rights,” he said dryly.

Crap. Barry’s smile fell. Joking around like this with Cisco, passing the time with idle chatter of everything and nothing at once (and even at normal speed, time was somehow moving entirely too fast), he could almost pretend like things were normal. But now, he felt like an ass. “Sorry.”

“Oh come on, quit it with the brooding. I was just kidding. Us? We’re good.” He gestured between them with a smile. “I’ll be back on my feet before you know it, so try not to completely destroy our suit before I get back.”

And Barry couldn’t help but flash his own smile in return, nor could he control the way his heart skipped a beat at the mention of ‘our’ suit. “Get some rest, buddy.” He gave Cisco’s hand a final squeeze. “I’ve gotta get back to work, or Singh’ll kill me.”

Cisco rolled his eyes and mimed Barry’s rambling as he retreated towards the double doors. “Hey, there’s just one more thing,” he called out when Barry was nearly over the threshold.

Barry surprised even himself at how quickly he was back by the bedside.

“Have you guys caught them, yet?”

Barry swallowed. He didn’t pretend for a second to misunderstand who was meant by ‘them.’ This felt like a chance to come clean, to fess up to crimes yet to be committed, but he was too scared of what Cisco might say, so he settled for “we’ve got a lock on their location.”

And Cisco -- blameless Cisco -- flashed him a loopy smile. “Give ‘em hell.”

If only he knew…

He beat his retreat before he could feel even guiltier.

*

“Finally. I thought I was gonna have to pull you two lovebirds apart. It’s my turn now,” Iris teased when he emerged.

Barry blushed, dipping his head a little and looking away, which was apparently the wrong thing to do because he found himself being pulled down the hall and into a deserted hallway for privacy.

“Hey, what’s up? Everything okay?” She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got that far off look again like you do before you run off to do something crazy.”

He took a deep breath. “I know where those guys are. The ones who attacked Cisco.”

“Oh.” Iris froze.

“Hartley tracked them down when they turned their phones on.”

She was looking at him cautiously like one would a stray cat that might bolt at any second. “What will you do?”

“I...I can’t just let what they did go unpunished, Iris.” Even to himself, he sounded hollow.

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” she said carefully. “I just worry about what this will do to you. I don’t think this is who you are, Barry. It’s going to eat away at you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Barry said stubbornly.

“Do what you need to do, but when you’re ready to talk about it, just know that I’m here.” She leaned on her toes and pressed her forehead to his, giving him a gentle kiss.

“I know.” Sometimes, Barry felt like he didn’t deserve her.

As he walked away, he could feel Iris’s eyes on him. Searching.

 

* * *

 

 

Tracking down the men wasn’t difficult. They were walking down Waid in broad daylight, and less than a second had passed between Barry’s checking the computer for their location and arriving at the scene. He felt like a wolf being let into the sheep pen, but after all, wasn’t that exactly how they’d stalked after Cisco?

In the time it took him to dash across the street towards them, they hadn’t even moved in the slightest, or if they had, his perception wasn’t good enough to see it. This was going to be easy, he thought viciously.

Grabbing them by the scruffs of their tattered jackets, he dragged them bodily into the closest alley, ignoring the burning smell and rising smoke from their jeans, which were now singed from the ride. Before they could process what was happening, he tied Goatee to a dumpster. Better to give him a prime view of what was coming for him.

The second man -- Scarface -- pulled a gun and Barry wanted to laugh. He had it disassembled and on the other end of the alley in less than a second.

“The hell do you want?” Scarface tensed into a combative stance. Good. He wanted them to fight back. To know that they’d given it their all.

In a flurry, Barry danced around him, too quick for the naked eye to make out, raining blow upon blow. Even in his unfortunate battle with Oliver under Bivolo’s influence, his speed had really been all he’d needed. The rapid-fire, staccato punches had been enough to overwhelm even Oliver, and that was with Barry striking out blindly. But these men were only civilians, so what chance did they really have?

This time, he was prepared. He’d studied. Committed to memory Hartley’s charts and diagrams and the feel of the practice dummy beneath his fingers. This time, he knew exactly where to strike to maximize the pain.

And it was clear that his work had paid off. Scarface was screaming, buckling under the pressure, but Barry didn't let up. He felt a rib crack under his fist and was surprised by how satisfying it felt.

The sideways swipe thrown at him was wild and desperate, easily dodged with a casual backstep, and Barry slammed him bodily against the brick and mortar behind him in response. It was almost comical how slowly Scarface’s body reacted to the stimuli. Flesh jiggled like jello. Spit was ejected from from his mouth like molasses. Drops of blood filled the air like a humid summer drizzle that Barry easily swatted away.

He dug a thumb into the crook of Scarface’s shoulder -- it was like muscle memory at this point -- and knew he hit his target when he heard the subsequent cry of pain.

“Wh-what do you want from us?”

Barry ignored the smell of burning flesh as the electricity slithered along his arms and made contact with Scarface.

“Cisco Ramon,” was all he said, letting his vocal chords oscillate and plunge his voice an octave lower. He sounded a little like... _no_ , he would never. He and Hunter were nothing alike, he swore it. But the trick nonetheless had the intended effect.

Barry could pinpoint the exact moment that Scarface realized this was personal and not about some petty crime. The moment his eyes widened in shock and he whimpered. “Christ, please. We didn’t mean no harm,” he cowered. “We had no idea the Flash was looking out for him.”

And well. That just made Barry angrier. No harm? They’d planned out their final act to the last detail.

In a sudden burst of movement, he thrust his right arm into Scarface’s shoulder, the very molecules and atoms in his own arm thrumming at the frequency of the surrounding air particles. This was something that felt natural to him, as it had ever since not-Wells had explained it to him in that whispered tone: electricity pumping through his veins, crackling through him, traveling to every nerve in his body.

Scarface looked down at his shoulder in surprise.

And Barry allowed the vibrations to stop.

The scream was blood-curdling. He thought he might have even heard a gasp from somewhere in the distance.

“Please!” It was animalistic. More of a howl than a plea.

He stretched his fingers outward, feeling tendons, muscles, bone, and blood, forcing himself to move slowly -- to slice through nerves and really drag this out. The howling reached a fever pitch, but Barry hardly heard it over the buzzing in his ears that was urging him forward.

Barry’s fingers curled into a fist. “Wh-what are you d-doing?”

And he _ripped_. Pulled outward. There was a deafening snap. A fragment of bone in his hand, sharp as a sword along the uneven crack. As time ground to a halt, he could see the blood dripping off of the suit, the suit itself seeming to melt as maroon blood slipped off of red leather.

The howling went on and on and on.

The absolute scariest part, though, was that he felt at peace. He had expected to perhaps feel

horror or revulsion at what he had just done, but he felt something resolve instead, and it left a deeply unsettling feeling in his stomach.

He stood there as the seconds ticked past and the blood from the bone pooled around his feet. At some point, Scarface must have passed out from the pain. Barry wondered what the police would think when they didn't find any external injuries.

“Help!” Goatee shouted from behind him, then “Please! I-I’m sorry, man. Don't -- s-stay away,” when Barry began advancing on him.

All Barry saw was the lopsided beard and those cold eyes bearing down on Cisco as he begged for mercy. The bruises on Cisco’s ribs, the odd angles his wrists had been sticking out at, the swelling around his eyes, and he recreated them in kind.

The next few seconds were a foggy haze. A rage-fueled stupor. And when had he pressed Goatee up against the wall? His fingers found their way to that spot on the shoulder again and slipped inward.

“Please, please, please,” he begged, sobbing pathetically. “I won’t be able to work in the warehouse without my arms.”

And Barry considered that. Almost subconsciously, his arm slid down and leftwards, shifting until it was quivering over Goatee’s heart. How easy would it be to just...squeeze? To draw his arm back out of the ether and give it form again.

Goatee squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself.

He felt his fingers twitch. Out of his control. Could feel the individual molecules begin to slow their vibrations. _Isn’t this what you wanted?_ a small part his brain asked viciously. He’d certainly considered the option before, but never seriously. It had been one thing to think about (and even to visualize), but carrying it out to term was another thing entirely, and he watched on in terror as his hand continued to move without his permission.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Barry could feel himself slipping over the precipice and into the abyss.

“Barry, don’t.” Iris’s voice came out sharp over his earpiece, causing him to startle so badly that he wrenched his arm back. Goatee sank to the ground, curled his arms around his knees, and breathed deep, shuddering breaths.

The tremors wracking Barry’s body were so violent that he staggered backwards and jolted when his back made contact with the dumpster, but failed to right himself in time and landed flat on his ass.

He’d almost...what had he done…?

The bodies sprawled around him, the bone fragments, the blood on his hands. It was all too much, like the world was closing in on him and he was suffocating. Like someone had doused him in a bucket of cold water and he was only now seeing the light. He rose to his feet -- still shaking, still trembling -- and grabbed the two men by their collars, angling himself towards the mouth of the alley.

On some level, he was aware of the mass of pedestrians gathered around the mouth of the alley, scrambling like ants to make way for some mad giant with cameras and cell phones in hand, but his first priority was to get Scarface and Goatee to the hospital and alert CCPD.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, he dreamed he was back in the alley, only instead of Scarface or Goatee backed up against the bricks, it was Cisco, screaming and begging Barry not to hurt him.

Barry woke with a start. When he rubbed his hands over his face, the skin was cold and clammy to the touch; his sheets were drenched in enough sweat to fill a small bucket; and his heart was thumping along far faster than was normal even for him.

He could never hurt Cisco.

But a split second later, the sudden realization hit him: of course he _could_ hurt Cisco, and easily, too. He _would never_ do that, though, would he? He tried to reassure himself even as he felt himself slip further down the slope.

A few laps around the city to clear his mind, and he still wasn’t feeling any more convinced. Against his better judgment, he snuck into Cisco’s hospital room. He felt dirty and unworthy of being in Cisco’s presence after what he’d done yesterday, but like a moth drawn to the flame, he couldn’t help himself. Cisco _had_ to be okay.

It was comforting to just sit by his bedside and hold his hand, and sleep claimed him easily a few minutes later.

The dreams, though -- they continued to plague him. Sometimes it was Iris with the blood dripping from her mouth. Sometimes Cisco. Joe asked him how he could hurt his friends like this, Caitlin told him how disappointed she was, Hartley wanted to know if it was worth it. He watched from the sidelines as Cisco gasped out a dying breath, struggling to inhale as a red-gloved hand dug around in his chest; as Iris stared at him with betrayal evident in her wide eyes when her heart stopped, too.

All of the morbid possibilities flashed before his eyes.

In the days of his sci-fi obsession, Barry had read a short story by Richard Lupoff about a man who was forced to relive the same hour of his life over and over. But where Myron Castleman had to contend with his choice of lunch or running out of time in his loop to contact the eccentric physicist who might have been able to help him, Barry was forced to watch himself murder his friends in graphic detail.

When the sun finally rose, he read the clock with a sigh of relief. 6:53 A.M. No sign of any temporal anomalies here.

“Dude, you were shouting in your sleep all night,” Cisco said. Barry didn’t even realize he’d been awake.

“Oh, uh...sorry.” He pulled his hand away with a blush when he realized it was still tangled with Cisco’s own. “What was I saying?” He dreaded the answer to that one.

“Something about you not being anything like ‘him.’” Cisco raised an eyebrow, which Barry realized he could see because the swelling around Cisco’s eyes was finally starting to go down. “Want to share with the class?”

“Oh.” (Joe had accused him of being no better than Hunter.) “I don’t remember the dream, actually.” (He could recall all of the worry lines on Joe’s face as he’d said it.) “Hey, it looks like Caitlin’s healing serum is starting to work, right?” Barry deflected, perhaps somewhat unsubtly judging by the frown on Cisco’s face.

Thankfully, Cisco let it go though and flashed him a toothy smile, missing tooth on full display. “The doctors said they’ve never seen anything like it. I might even be discharged in another week.”

“That’s -- that’s great, Cisco.” At least something was looking up.

“All thanks to you and Caitlin. That gets you guys bad guy naming privileges for at least a week.”

Barry barked out a laugh. “What an honor.” Then, when the silence began to stretch out, “Mind if I stay until my shift starts?”

“You’re just about the most interesting part of my day. Seriously, I’d be going crazy without your visits, dude. Well, you and the others,” he amended hastily.

Barry wanted to say something meaningful, but Cisco’s phone buzzed from the nightstand.

“Ugh, mind getting that for me, buddy?” Cisco groaned.

Complying, Barry keyed in the passcode that was ingrained in his memory by now.

 **TheReal Bro (Dante)** now

_Dude turn on CCTV4 *lightning emoji*_

“The remote’s under the TV,” Cisco said, nodding at the table on the opposite wall.

Barry’s heart stopped when he flipped to the channel and read the headline.

_Breaking News: The Flash, Unhinged?_

_“In a shocking turn of events, Central City’s premier superhero appears to have tracked down the two men responsible for the beating of former STAR Labs employee Francisco Ramon early last week,”_ the female reporter said from the alley that Barry knew by like the back of his hand by now, if not from that day then certainly from his nightmares.

Cisco frowned at the TV. “Unhinged?”

But Barry remembered the scene yesterday and was positive he knew what was coming next.

 _“An eyewitness captured the following video. Viewer discretion is advised.”_ Cisco’s eyes were glued to television screen now. Barry watched himself pummel Scarface, deliberately digging painfully and slowly into various pressure points before ripping out a chunk of bone from his shoulder. _“As you can see, the violent confrontation is highly atypical of what this city has come to expect from the scarlet speedster. Many have even begun to question whether The Flash has become unhinged.”_

A stern-looking older male reporter was interviewing witnesses at the scene. _“I thought he was going to kill them,”_ a young girl sobbed. Her mother was shouting about how the police should be throwing the Flash in a jail cell, but Barry was no longer paying attention.

“Cisco, please, I can explain--”

And Cisco vomited on himself. He was choking through the dry heaves, ashen as a ghost. When Barry moved in to help him, Cisco flinched away from him so violently that he swore he could feel the knife twist into his heart. He didn’t have time to think about that though, because suddenly, there were nurses flooding into the room, pulling the cannula out of Cisco’s nose, trying to get the heart rate monitor to slow its pace, and forcefully shoving Barry out of the room.

“You’re agitating Mr. Ramon and we’re going to have to ask you to step outside.”

*

He ran and ran and ran until he couldn’t feel his feet anymore.

*

He rescued a mother and her son from a mugging, but when he finished incapacitating the perpetrator, the little boy was staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes before running to hide behind his mother’s legs. The mother thanked him, though Barry could tell that she, too, was uneasy.

He was used to protecting the innocent people of Central City from criminals, but never before had he been the thing people thought they needed protecting from.

*

 _The Flash Shows Signs of Violent Tendencies, Psychopathy_ read the _Picture News’s_ morning headline penned by Scott Evans himself.

*

When he showed up to stop an ongoing bank robbery, the team of masked men returned the cash to the registers, abandoned their guns, and fled with their tails between their legs.

Any other time, Barry would have found it convenient, but today, it just felt wrong.

*

_“Look Patricia, some are beginning to wonder who this Francisco Ramon character is to the Flash and I think it’s obvious he was the catalyst to this violent episode. There have been more heinous crimes in Central City before, but we didn’t see the Flash avenging anyone back then. So I think we do have to ask how important Mr. Ramon is to the Flash.”_

_“And there you have it, folks. Tune in to CCTV4 tonight to hear more from senior criminal analyst Alexander Bukowski.”_

*

There were protests outside of the CCPD precinct demanding that the Flash be arrested. There were counter protests demanding that he be hailed as a hero for taking two violent criminals off the streets. There were riot police dispatched to quell the clashes between both sides.

*

 _“I wish there was someone out there who cared about me the same way that the Flash cares about Mr. Cisco,”_ a girl said in a street interview on the evening news. She couldn’t have been older than ten.

Barry felt like he was going to be sick.

*

In an official press conference, Captain Singh told reporters that the department had no immediate plans to press charges against the Flash, citing past heroic deeds in his defense.

“No questions at this time,” he said before quickly leaving the podium. The uproar from the press was thunderous. And when Barry arrived at work the next morning, the entire precinct was celebrating, which only made him feel sicker.

*

He ran and ran and ran. Like a shark, if he didn’t stop moving, it would feel less like his guilt was eating him from the inside out.

*

When he couldn’t take it any longer, he dialed Iris’s number. He should’ve done this immediately after that night, he knew, but he hadn’t even processed his own thoughts yet, let alone the consequences this would have for Cisco and the Flash’s public image.

 

* * *

 

 

“How did you know?” Barry asked when they were sat in Jitters with their drinks.

“I haven’t seen you in two days and that’s what you open with?” Iris raised an eyebrow.

“When I went to go find those guys, how did you know I might...go overboard?” he clarified. If she noticed the euphemism (and she definitely did), she let it go without comment.

Iris took a long sip of her latte. “I didn’t. At least, not at first. But I had a feeling things might escalate in the heat of the moment and high-tailed it to STAR right after you left the hospital.” She said it with the air of someone commenting on a minor detour she had to take on her morning commute rather than someone who had just talked her best friend out of committing aggravated murder.

“It was never supposed to go that far, I swear.” At Iris’s nod, he continued. “I just...when I started beating on them, I couldn't stop and I was so scared I would go through with it but thenIheardyourvoiceand--”

“Calm down, Bar. It didn't happen. You stopped yourself.” She reached across the table to grasp his hands over their grip on his coffee cup.

“But what if it happens again? Wh-what if I _kill_ someone next time?” He really didn't want to consider it, but he'd learned that it was well within the realm of possibility, and wasn't that just terrifying? He'd had time by now to blow past the freak out stage and straight into subdued resignation.

Iris sighed. “Not gonna happen on my watch.”

How could she say that so easily? He shook his head rapidly before pulling his hands away. “You don't know that. I keep having these nightmares and I--I _kill_ you in them, Iris. You and Cisco and everyone else.”

“Don't you think--”

“You were right all along,” Barry said frantically, voice hushed because they were still in public. “I broke things I didn't even know could be broken. People used to see the Flash as a hero, but now they're terrified of him. Of _me_.”

“But that's not--”

“And Cisco! He can't even bear to look at me right now.” He saw it in Cisco’s eyes -- he was scared of Barry now, too, and that was probably what hurt the most.

Iris cleared her throat. “Are you done?”

“What…?” He was taken aback by her tone. Commanding, like it always was when she was about to give him a beat down.

“First of all, the fact that this is weighing so heavily on you proves that you're still a good person. Those men were criminals who half the city think deserve the death penalty.” She pulled out a folder from her bag and slid it over to him. It was filled with newspaper clippings, op-eds, printouts of blog posts, all in defense of the Flash’s actions. “But you've still got your convictions and morals. The Barry I know would have been guilt-ridden over what he'd done, just like you are now.” Barry swallowed, unsure of how to respond, but still listening with rapt attention to her every word. “So _that’s_ how I know you're not going to spiral out of control. Everyone makes mistakes, including you, but you stopped yourself and you’ll do it again if you have to.”

“And what about Cisco…?” Barry asked quietly and looked down at his hands.

“Well, if you’d bothered to slow down for a few seconds, you’d know that Cisco actually wants to talk to you.” Iris said haughtily.

“Wait, what?” There was no way. After the last time he’d seen Cisco, he’d thought he’d be lucky to ever be in the same room with him again. Iris was looking at him like she knew something that Barry didn’t, though...hell, she probably did, given how out of it he’d been lately.

“He’s a little offended that you’d think so little of him, actually,” she added.

Barry had a feeling he was processing this all a little slowly. “I...I should--”

“I get it. Go on, shoo.” Iris waved him away with a smug smile.

“You’re the best, you know that?” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before dashing out the door.

*

When he was out of sight of the glass facade, Iris noticed the flash of light that trailed along the frosted windows and down south toward the hospital.

 

* * *

 

 

“Sorry it took me so long to stop by. Had to take a detour.” Barry plopped onto the visitors’ seat and gestured at the crowd of people just beyond the doors. He’d debated just running through them, but the risk of someone spotting him was too high, and the last thing Cisco needed right now was to be spotted with the Flash.

“I’ve got my own paparazzi now,” Cisco said dryly. Not just the media and tabloid reporters anymore, but admiring fans and well-wishers and those who were simply curious to see what it was about Francisco Ramon that made him so important to the Flash, and the increased security detail outside Cisco’s room didn’t seem to be helping.

Barry winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “About that…”

“Look,” Cisco sighed, and Barry noticed that he was healing rapidly. The splints on his fingers had been taken off, light bandages in their place. The scarring on his chest had diminished to a few raised, pink scratches and the skin looked like it was healing nicely. Even the nasal cannula had come out sometime in the last few days. “I’m not angry at you, or whatever you think I am right now. But dude, you have no idea how much it scares me that you might go over to the Dark Side because of me. Hell, you _did_. I can’t help but think that it would be better if we weren’t so close...”

“What? No!” Barry said desperately, immediately jumping to his feet. “You can’t mean that. Not after everything we’ve been through.” It would be for the best though, and he couldn’t exactly blame Cisco for wising up. It was only what he deserved after all.

Cisco held up a hand. “You didn’t let me finish. As I was _about_ to say, it wouldn’t be fair for me to let you go through this alone. Remember how you told me I wouldn’t become like Reverb because I had a family standing behind me?” Barry nodded mutely. Those words had felt like the solidification of something more than friendship. “So what kind of person would it make me if I turned my back on you now?”

“A sane one?” Barry tried for levity. He could feel himself tearing up, though.

“I’m with you ‘till the end, buddy.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Barry’s voice was barely a whisper.

Cisco scoffed and brushed it off easily. “That’s only like, your opinion though. _But_ ,” Cisco said more soberly this time, “you’ve _got_ to promise me you’re never going to do something like that again.”

Barry swallowed. “And I know it’s been eating away at you this whole time and you’re not taking this lightly, but I can’t have you running around avenging me like some bat out of hell. You don’t know how messed up that is. It’s honestly not even so much the beating and punching, because those guys were total assholes, but you came so close to _killing_ them, Bar. And I know that would wreck you. Me, too, for that matter.”

“I...I’m doing my best because I don’t want to become that person. Not ever. But I can’t promise it won’t happen again.” It was as honest as Barry could be right now, and it petrified him. “I can’t lose you, Cisco. I _can’t_. You and Iris...you guys are everything to me.” He felt naked, laid bare, but there it was. The reason for all of this.

“If you actually died that night, I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened…”

“Barry…” Cisco sounded like he was talking to a small child, which Barry would normally resent, but it felt oddly appropriate right now. He was lost. Drifting aimlessly. Trying to find his path. “You act like you’re on some fated path to lose yourself, but we have free will, man. Just like I had you and Cait with me, you’ve got me and Iris and the rest of us -- we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You think so?” Barry said tentatively.

Cisco grinned. “I know so.” And he somehow found himself feeling considerably better about the outcome of this whole fiasco, even as Cisco put on his best menacing voice (which wasn’t very menacing at all) for his next line: “My help comes at a price, though.”

“Oh?” Barry said lightly. He _felt_ lighter, too.

Cisco leaned over towards Barry as best he could. “You have to get me out of here, Bar. The food is awful. I’ve been watching cable news all day. The vultures out there keep trying to get pictures of my bad side.” He ran a frantic hand through the fresh patch of hair that was finally growing back after the surgery. “I mean, it’s worse than that time you forced me to marathon all of the _Transformers_ movies.”

“They weren’t _that_ bad,” Barry said defensively.

“That’s not the point! I’m dying in here, dude. And yes, they actually were that bad.”

“How can I help, though? The nurses already hate me for sneaking in after hours all the time,” he said, expression long-suffering.

“Oh my god. You’re a superhero. You have actual superpowers that you use every single day to visit me. You’re technically the director of STAR Labs, so...I don’t know, make something up. Do what Wells did when he had you transferred from the hospital, I don’t care. Just get me outta here.”

When Cisco put it that way, he felt pretty dumb, but in his own defense, it’d been a long day. “I’ll try to think of something,” he said quickly, the gears in his brain already turning at full speed as he gave Cisco’s hand a squeeze and made to dash away.

But he froze immediately when he felt it. ‘It’ being the jolt of electricity that had left his fingertips and trailed the length of Cisco’s arm. And Cisco must’ve felt it too, because when Barry looked up, Cisco’s wide-eyed shock was a perfect mirror of his own.

“Did you just…?”

Barry stared at his fingers. “I think so.” He couldn’t quite put it into words, but it felt like something lifted and he could see the shore now. “Do you feel any different?”

“Mmm, warm? Tingly? Way better than a few seconds ago.” Cisco wiggled his fingers for show, and Barry couldn’t help the ear-splitting smile that spread across his face. “Why didn’t you just do that from the start?” Cisco asked.

“I couldn’t,” Barry said. Something felt like it had slotted into place just now. He had some theories on that, actually, but preferred to keep them to himself for now.

“Right. Well, I guess this is the part where I’m supposed to tell you you’re the greatest, but you already knew that, so all I’m gonna say is _Get. Me. Out. Of. Here._ ”

Barry jumped to attention. “On it!”

“Make it quick!” Cisco shouted after him.

*

“Okay, color me impressed. What the hell did you tell them to get me discharged so fast?”

  
“I might’ve gotten Felicity to hack the hospital records,” Barry said sheepishly. “Today’s your official discharge day.”

“Hey, I’ll take it. Can’t wait to lay in my own bed again.”

“Just hang tight. I’ve got first shift on your couch tonight.” Barry was pushing the wheelchair out the main entrance, Iris by his side. “I’ll whip you up one of Joe’s famous, home-cooked meals.”

Cisco snorted. “Yeah, you’re just forgetting one simple fact.”

“Meaning?”

“You can’t cook to save your life. I vote Iris handles the cooking duties.”

Iris laughed. “Damn straight.”

“Rude.” Barry could heat up the pot of chili that Joe had already made for him just fine, but no one had to know that. “You’d better hope I decide to give you a smooth ride home.”

“So how’s this gonna work, then? ‘Cause I don’t think I need to remind you what inertia is. I’ll be a splat on the ground as soon as you stop pushing me.”

“Ye’ of little faith. I do know a little physics, you know. Strap yourself in.” He held up the special buckles designed to hold a human in a wheelchair at Mach 2.

“Hartley made those, actually,” Iris felt the need to point out.

“I knew this was his handiwork. He carves his initials into all of his inventions.” Cisco held up the metal clips in demonstration.

“Hey, I ran out and got the materials. That was hard work! I still don’t know why he needed rare metals from Sweden.”

“Sounds like a real challenge,” Cisco said sarcastically as he clipped himself in.

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh? Brace yourself.” Barry bent his right knee and leaned his body forward, then promptly started sprinting, long legs running helter-skelter over the pavement as Cisco screamed for his life.

The wind picked up around his face and the electricity crackled around his torso and he felt free for the first time in weeks. There was plenty of work yet to be done -- bridges still not yet fully rebuilt, wounds not yet fully healed -- but standing here with Cisco and Iris by his side, he felt invincible.

**Author's Note:**

> huge thanks to everyone that helped me brainstorm ideas and edit this fic: hedgiwithapen, greenglowsgold, kaci3po, pennflinn, kashinoha, lun3lla, and lemonyandbeatrice. of course, I procrastinated like my usual self with this fill and ended up writing in a pretty big rush, but here it is.
> 
> the bit about Barry's speed force "magic" will probably be jossed by the finale, but I figured I'd have some fun with it while I could :)
> 
> this will almost very probably be continued in some way or another, most likely in the form a short sequel drabbles


End file.
